Quidditch Commentator
by SheRipper
Summary: IT'S THE LAST GAME OF THE SEASON! The biggest event! James Potter's last important moment as Captain of his final year in Hogwarts! The only set back is - For some reason McGonagall put Lily Evans up as the commentator? And que hilarity please. "Lily, do you even know who the players are?" Alice asked. "You reckon I'll need to?" "Merlin's shaggy balls."


"Quidditch commentator?!" Mary McDonald's fork froze half way to her mouth.

"Is McGonagall mad?" Demanded Alice Prewett, reaching out to her Pumpkin Juice cup absentmindedly and her hand ended up _inside_ of her Pumpkin Juice cup. "Oh – gross!" She jumped, cleaning it against her robes.

"I'd say so; do you even know the rules?" Marlene McKinnon narrowed her eyes, disgruntled.

"It's the stupidest and simplest game on earth Marlene, of course I know the bloody rules." bit back a far more disgruntled Lily Evans.

The four Gryffindor seventh year girls sat in stunned stupefied silence in the left side of the Gryffindor table at dinner.

"You only say that because James plays Quidditch." Marlene said in the silence, bitter. "I'll let you know it's difficult as hell. And cool."

Mary patted her on the shoulder to pacify her.

"How in Merlin's name did she rope you into accepting?" Alice demanded.

Lily's face reddened in anger. "Who says I had a bleeding choice in the matter? 'The duties of a Head Girl are to assist the school when it needs them, and when your Deputy Headmistress hasn't managed to find even one decent commentator for the school sport by the season's last game, and doesn't wish to put on another embarrassment on the microphone, the Head Girl steps up!' Is what she said."

"Wow." Mary said, eyes bulging.

"Er- she does know you hate the sport, right?" Alice asked, worried.

Lily gave them a sour look. "Do put your personal feelings aside just this once, Miss Evans."

"Alright please stop imitating McGonagall Lily; it's eerie how accurate you sound." Alice shivered, looking at the teachers' table as though the real one can hear them.

"Please Lily!" Marlene said desperately. "We haven't had a decent commentator the whole year and this is the final game for the cup and we're up against the Slytherins! Please don't somehow screw it all up!"

Lily gave her a cold look. "What makes you think I'll screw it up?! I'll hate it, but I'll do my job." She huffed, as her head of house probably knew she would.

"Because when James and you are involved things tend to get screwed up!"

"Calm down Marlene." Alice said calmly. "Potter will be on the field and Lily will be all the way in the commentator's booth with McGonagall, and Gryffindor will win the cup!" she finished cheerfully.

Marlene grumbled, pocking her toast with a tea spoon.

Lily relented, her shoulders falling an inch. "Oh I don't understand the hype, really, but I'm sure you'll be great Marlene."

Marlene chuckled. "Thanks, I guess."

Just then James Potter stood up in the other side of the table and called "Players with me!"

Lily's scowl was back, as Marlene packed up, happy to leave her toast unfinished. "Who does Potter think he is, bothering everybody because of his stupid game?"

"Last strategy meeting before the game tomorrow." Marlene told them, getting up.

"Don't tell anybody girls, this is between us. McGonagall said there's been a tradition of the commentators being hexed before a game."

When Marlene looked away, not meeting her eye she bristled. "So it's true? Violent, needless, stupid sport –"

"Gotta go!" Marlene said quickly "I'll keep it to myself." And she was gone.

"Lily, do you even know who the players are?" Alice asked, still pretty shocked McGonagall did this.

"You reckon I'll need to?"

"Merlin's shaggy balls."

* * *

"Think I did a good job with my last Quidditch Captain speech?"

"Yeah Prongs, you killed it." Sirius Black said lazily, shrugging his broom behind his shoulders. "Come on let's do this."

James took a deep breath; his last moment as captain, their last year – he had to win it!

He nodded at his six players encouragingly and they left the changing tent, walking onto the field to meet the Slytherins at the middle, with Madam Hooch.

"Captains, I want a clean game! Shake hands!" Hooch called sternly.

James and Lestrange both did their best to crush the other's fingers as they shook hands stiffly, both giving each other threatening glares.

"And the players of both houses are out on the field, shaking hands – which looks rather violent already – really Professor this is such a good-for-nothing sport, why force it on us?"

James' head twirled to the commentator's booth, where he was shocked to see Lily Evans with her long ginger hair spread across her shoulders, frowning at McGonagall.

"What the hell is Evans doing, commentating?!" Sirius asked behind him, stunned. "She hates Quidditch!"

"McGonagall forced her." Marlene told them sadly.

"Alright players! On your brooms!" Madam Hooch yelled, and they hurried to focus back on the game. The fourteen players rose to the air in silence, until;

"And they're setting off!" They heard McGonagall scream at the commentator's booth.

"And they're setting off." Evans repeated dully, bored.

"Roll call!" McGonagall shouted, as Hooch whistled the start of the game.

"Roll call? Are you insane Professor? There are fourteen of them! And it's the last game of the season or whatever, isn't it? If you don't know who they are, then you really don't care enough to sit out here and clap and whatnot – "

"The game Miss Evans! The game!"

"Oh alright – er – let's see, - and Marlene has the Quaffle –"

"McKinnon!" McGonagall's bark was heard.

"I know what her last name is Professor." Lily said tersely.

James spotted Marlene clutching the Quaffle to her side, guffawing uncontrollably.

"MARLENE HEAD IN THE GAME!" James screamed, and she jolted and raced to get out of range from the bludgers aimed at her by the Slytherin's Beaters.

When she passed him the ball James told himself fiercely not to allow himself to be distracted by whatever Lily Evans had to say about him – though he loved her voice, and when she talks about him it really gets him going – the Quaffle was thrown hard enough to press his Captain pin to his chest through his robes and he grumbled at himself for losing focus so quickly and zigzagged through the Slytherin players toward the goal posts. Fuck why did McGonagall make Evans the commentator?! This was THE game! His _last_ game as Captain!

"And she passes to Potter whose now got the Quaffle, not that it matters, since the snitch will determine the results of this game, as usual. I'd say he's quite unnecessary, overall, which is ironic really, since he's the captain – his time will be much better spent focusing on his Head Boy duties, not that he listens to me -"

For some reason, it was easier to focus with Evans' voice echoing across the air; perhaps because he loved it, that apparently he bothered her so much. His nerves dissolved into something insignificant and he was left with a cocky desire to brag as she watches.

The sea of red in the stands erupted in cheers as he scored through the Slytherin Keeper, Lestrange.

He flew across the commentator booth and saluted before going back to the game, as there were loud cat calls and laughter in the crowd.

"…0-10 to Gryffindor." James was nearly by Sirius' side when he heard her call reluctantly, and he laughed fondly.

"Way to show her Prongs!" Sirius smirked, waving his bat as a bludger came closer.

Marlene flew by "Did she just say chasers aren't necessary for the game?! Oh she's gonna get it when this finishes! Hey Captain way to keep your head in the game!" She told him dryly.

"Captains are the exception." James winked.

Ten minutes later things began to turn tense when Slytherin scored and the green sea of students erupted in cheers all across the field.

"And one of the Slytherin chasers –"

"Parkinson!"

"- What Professor McGonagall said – got through Potter's Keeper!"

James gritted his teeth as the sea of green in the audience mocked and jeered, quite enjoying Evans commentating.

"Changing the score to 20-30 still in Gryffindor's favor, though it'll all be mute once the snitch is caught because a 10 points difference will hardly sway against a ball worth 150 points, once again, making all of Potter's hard work on the field _pointless_. Honestly, it'll be more productive to just lay low and enjoy the sun for the rest of the players, waiting for the Seekers to do their –"

The Slytherins scored again while Lily was babbling and the cheers erupted again, swallowing the sound of her voice momentarily.

"How is McGonagall letting her get away with this?!" Sirius demanded, close by.

"Look at the booth!" Finnigan screamed, swooshing by quickly before flying off to intercept the Quaffle.

James spared the commentator's booth a quick glance and it was somehow charmed with a great purple bubble that McGonagall apparently couldn't cross.

"Can't Flitwick do anything about that?!" Sirius called, frustrated as he hit another bludger away from them.

James spotted Flitwick marveling over the charm delightedly with Dumbledore and grimaced. "They're impressed by it."

"Oh come on!" Sirius huffed.

James heaved a breath; she didn't excel in Charms for nothing, but still, to be able to keep McGonagall out like that, who loves Quidditich…

"So the score is even now… and the Quaffle passes hands…" She informed them lazily, clearly wishing she could be doing other things at the moment.

James rolled his eyes and decided to give her something interesting to watch.

"Oi! Padfoot!" he called. "Let's put on a show!"

Sirius grew a hungry smirk and flew off like a cannonball, forcing the Slytherin chasers to move out of the way and Crabbe to drop the Quaffle as Marlene caught it and raced across the field; James smiled, Sirius hardly needed a bludger, he WAS the bludger.

The second Gryffindor beater was used to the strategy and worked hard to keep up with the two bludgers and the opposing beaters.

James raced and called out to Marlene who was getting cornered "Here!" and she passed him the ball, as he faked a throw for Lestrange, only to pass to Finnigan who scored, her long blond ponytail flying behind her as she did a victory lapse around the pools.

"30-40 to –"

Just as Parkinson leered at him James did a surprise turn and bumped into him enough for him to drop the Quaffle and for James to grab it and threw it far away at Marlene and out of reach from Parkinson. Then James got away from him quickly before he could retaliate and Sirius swooped in to guard him as the second beater protected Marlene as she grew close enough to pass to Finnigan who kept close to the polls just for that move – and scored easily.

The crowds erupted in a sea of red and gold, as Gryffindor scored twice in under three minutes.

"30-50 with Gryffindor in the lead thanks to Finnigan," Evans called, as Marlene passed by for a high five. "with Potter showing off as usual."

James couldn't help but laugh out loud at that heartily; had it been anyone else he'd have scowled at the insult, but he did show off, and it was to get this reaction from her. Marlene rolled her eyes. "You're both a pain in the arse, I swear you're the same person, with different ways of life – Lily's is books and yours is Quidditch." And she flew away as the tension shimmered without waiting for a response.

As per usual, the Slytherins started feeling the pressure with the point's ratio growing not to their favor and began playing dirty.

"Professor I know you said no cursing, but surely this earned an exception." Evans called angrily as Parkinson grabbed Marlene's head as though confusing it for the Quaffle, as the sea of Gryffindor supporters booed and Madam Hooch flew over to the scene.

Sirius and the second beater flew to her, waving their bats as a threat for Parkinson to let her go.

Just as angry, James took off and grabbed the real Quaffle from Crabbe, who hovered in the air like an idiot, watching and chuckling at Marlene's fate, and was half way across the field before anyone caught up that something else was happening.

"You incomplete animal – Hey Parkinson, the real Quaffle looks something like what Potter is carrying to your posts!"

James' heart raced in his chest as he neared the worried Keeper Lestrange, in his mind applauding Lily Evans for the inventive insult.

James' heart soared in appreciation and pride of his teammates' talent as he spotted Finnigan already ahead of him hurrying to accompany him, and Sirius making it to his side in time to block a bludger aimed in a rush.

He threw to Finnigan, who faked a throw as he knew she would and threw it to him again, as James hovered by the left goal and Lestrange was still by the right one, with Finnigan.

And the air screamed with cheers and boos, and a great whistle was heard across the field.

"Potter scored and it looks like Gryffindor's getting a penalty throw thanks to Parkinson's deficient sense of right and wrong."

The Slytherin supporters booed and called profanities at both the Gryffindor players and Evans in her purple booth.

"Oh be quite he deserved it!" Evans yelled at them, and the green and silver crowd booed louder.

James flew to Marlene's side, along with most of the team, and nodded at her, hoping she was well enough to throw well; she looked a little uneven on her broom. James glared fiercely at Parkinson from across the field; how hard did he grab her?

"Parkinson, if Marlene misses this shot I'll hand you detentions every day till the end of this year." Evans said from the booth, matter-of-fact. "And it will be well deserved."

Parkinson stared at the commentator's booth, clearly taken aback as the Gryffindors all cheered and clapped, in agreement with the Head Girl.

At Madam Hooch's second whistle the whole stadium quieted and they watched as Marlene took a deep breath and threw the Quaffle. Lestrange would've caught it, as it wasn't as fast as usual, showing all her teammates who knew her she wasn't in good shape, except he missed it by an inch and it gently flew though the loop.

The crowd erupted, the students supporting Gryffindor colours stood up, screaming and clapping passionately.

"And the amazing Marlene did it," James knew it wasn't appreciation for the player that had Evans complimenting her, but loyalty to her friend who managed to win despite being hurt. "30-70 with the Gryffindor team aiming for victory, a team well deserved of praise, since they made it all this way despite having Potter as their captain. Good job team."

Sirius erupted with great laughter, as they all flew up to Marlene to congratulate her.

James felt a frustrated wave in his chest, not being able to retort to Evans' insults like he usually can, which is probably why she keeps inserting them. He did his best to ignore her (and Padfoot) and called a time out to Hooch, who thankfully spotted it quickly.

The whistle sounded and the two teams huddled in two different corners across the field.

"And Potter, who I imagine by this point, just assumes all the time he owns the world, called for a time out. We'll all just wait, shall we Potter?"

James gritted his teeth as even his team snickered behind their hands, not meeting his eyes.

"Sweet shot Marlene!" He called over the noise, noticing the bruises starting around her chin, neck, and behind her ears. "But I'm sitting you out so you can be treated by Pomfrey, we'll put in our reserve."

Marlene tried to protest weekly, but winced and James guessed it hurt too much to talk. The rest of the team helped direct her broom to the medical tent by the corner of the field where Pomfrey was waiting, as James and Sirius flew to Hooch to inform her of the change.

When they came back Hestia was already getting on her broom, ready to go.

"You ready Jones?" James called, just as Sirius elbowed him and pointed at the teachers' bench.

McGonagall finally stopped yelling at Evans from out of the bubble and left towards the medical tent, and James hoped she's contemplating the same punishment system as Evans.

Dumbledore looked at the Slytherin team sadly, and Flitwick wasn't paying them any mind, chatting with Evans cheerfully, probably about her spell work.

James guessed that what grabbed Sirius' attention was Slughorn's dripping chin, as his drink somehow in the chaos managed to spill. James rolled his eyes at Padfoot, who snickered.

"Are you quite ready?" Hooch demanded.

"Yes ma'am." James called, looking over his team proudly. "Let's do this!"

They all cheered, throwing their fists in the air.

Hooch went to the commentator's booth to announce the change and to resume the game.

"And Hestia Jones came into the game to take Marlene's spot… Parkinson we're due some words come the end of this game." Evans promised dryly. "Now that the new lineup is ready, with the score still 30-70 for Gryffindor and the snitch still flying around somewhere, the game continues. Slytherin is 40 points down." she paused. "Slytherin is 40 points down." she repeated.

The silver and green crowd jeered at her as James smugly overheard Lestrange ask Hooch "Did she have to say it twice?!"

But he refocused on the game as soon as he heard Hooch's whistle blow.

"Fenwick! Focus on the snitch! Let's finish this!" James screamed at his seeker and soared high up, keeping close to Hestia Jones, the smallest and least experienced of his members. "Sirius – bother Rosier!" he told him, and Sirius raced to do just that to the Slytherin seeker.

"And most of the focus by now has passed to the Seekers, thank Merlin – go on, catch it already, before I grow old in this booth."

"MISS EVANS!"

McGonagall was back, apparently, and screaming loud enough to be overheard in the mic. James hoped that meant Marlene will be alright.

"Yes Professor?" Evans asked conversationally.

"THE. GAME!"

"Of course," she agreed bitterly "Jones passes to Finnigan who approaches the Slytherin captain –"

McGonagall shouted something else, but it was too estranged for James to catch.

"Right, the keeper whose name is Strange – and he blocks – what's that Professor? Le-strange? Odd. Oh, are the seekers finally getting a move on?"

Everyone looked at the seekers, Fenwick and Rosier, who seemed to race to the middle of the field but ended up dispatching.

"Looks like they lost the snitch – come on guys, we're not getting any younger."

James allowed himself another glance at the commentator's booth, where Lily Evans sat, head resting on one of her palms, looking mildly interested. McGonagall was disgruntled and huffing from exerting her voice, sitting down next to Albus Dumbledore, who was chuckling kindly, clearly enjoying the commentating.

Something meaty caught James' eye and he grabbed savagely Hestia's broom by the handle and threw her to the left. As she shrieked Parkinson's fat leg barely missed her chest.

James gave Parkinson a dark look, and vowed not to forget the purposeful swing the seventh year Slytherin made at the fourth year girl after the match is over.

He expected to hear the crowd screaming for the attempted blow, but it seemed to go unnoticed as all he heard was Evans' voice tearing through the sky "And Slytherin scores –" her voice was swallowed by cheers and claps from the Slytherins.

James turned quickly to see Finnigan had long lost the Quaffle with both James and Hestia distracted, and Crabbe cheering by the Gryffindor goal posts.

Parkinson threw him a smug sneer and flew away.

Cursing profanities James quickly flew along with Hestia to join Finnigan and Sirius who were holding back the Slytherins.

"And it looks like– er – Roier, Roser, how Professor? Oh whatever! The Slytherin seeker is on the move –"

The green and silver supporters cheered Rosier on, as Sirius flew quickly to guard Fenwick as he headed after him.

" _Aaaand_ it looks like he's turning back – er – did the snitch pass right by him and keep going?" the Gryffindors cheered, gleeful Rosier failed to catch the snitch. "So its 40-70 – not that it actually matters because whoever catches the snitch will win, and both seekers are probably going to crash."

James winced, agreeing with Evans; Rosier and Fenwick were both heading straight at each other as the little golden ball hovered right in the middle.

"That'll teach Potter to focus more on teaching his seeker to avoid crashes then to waste time with his own position – that was close!"

The whole crowd was on their feet, yelling; Rosier and Fenwick avoided a crash, but it looked like neither got the snitch.

"Rats!" Finnigan called in frustration.

"So close." Hestia agreed.

"Back to the game!" James ordered, and they spread out, FInnigan quickly stealing the Quaffle mid-pass between Crabbe and Parkinson, and threw it to Hestia.

"And Jones has the Quaffle – even I can tell the young reserve player is holding down well on the field – good job kid. Black, as usual, makes himself a fool meanwhile." Her tone changed to unimpressed and annoyed and James turned to see why the Slytherins were all laughing; Sirius, probably tired by this point, swung his bat at nothing at all several times to get some tension off his shoulders, which he had to admit, did look somewhat silly.

James told himself loyally not to laugh, as Sirius smiled towards Evans' booth and raised one of his middle fingers.

"Detention Black."

Sirius just barked a laugh and flew off.

James started to wonder if Lily Evans was growing to enjoy her new position, just as he was passed the Quaffle and threw himself forward on his broom towards the goal posts. "Yes!" Finnigan called, giving him a high five as she swooshed by after he scored.

"And more of Potter showing off. 40-80 Potter and still you remain irrelevant to your own team's success at victory."

Both of the red and green audience and even the players called " _Oooooh!_ " and James grew warm in the cheeks, as he turned to look evenly at the commentator's booth.

"What Potter? Disagree? Prove me wrong." She said happily.

He flew over and hovered right outside of her big bubble and took a deep breath before he yelled "THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK EVANS!" and raced to snatch the Quaffle from Crabbe who was too slow to take it back.

Half an hour later the Gryffindor supporters were filled with enthusiastic cheering, as they scored six more goals, three of which James put through the loops himself.

James made it a point to pass by Evans' booth and throw her a smirk after every goal, swelling with pleasure every time she had to correct the score.

"I'M SORRY, WHAT EVANS?!" Sirius yelled loudly, making a show of it, pretending not to have heard her magically enhanced voice.

Lily Evans gave him a dirty look and bit "I _said_ 40-140 in Gryffindor's favor, Black." Her cheeks flushing.

The red and gold in the audience made happy noise as the green and silver were throwing insults at the standing score.

James smiled at her expression and was determined to make her take her words back, as he raced back into the game.

"And Jones passes to Potter – who's a menace in the air as much as he usually is walking on two feet – who passes to Finnigan who's intercepted by Parkinson. And it looks like whatever roll the Gryffindor team has been on it's about to break as the Slytherin chasers make their way aggressively across the field – ease down there Parkinson you've already got more detentions then you've got time for – and Slytherin scores –"

The whole stadium shakes as the green and silver finally get to scream and cheer.

"So it's 50-140, Gryffindor still in the lead – do I have to state the obvious after every 10 points change professor? It's a 10 points change in the score, I'm sure everyone can keep up –"

The crowd erupted with excitement and James twirled in the air on the spot to watch as Fenwick made for the snitch, a roar of victory already forming in his throat.

" **NO!** _ **Watch out!**_ " Lily screamed into the mic just as the red sea of students in the stands booed and yelled in anger.

Sirius flanked Fenwick as he barely kept on his broom, high up as he was, close to falling down and probably dying if he had, and Hooch whistled, stopping the game to make sure the bludger missed his head.

It looked like it had, and Fenwick was alright to keep going, but the snitch has gone again.

The Gryffindor team took the frustration at being denied victory at the cup out on their posts, which earned them three more goals, but the next chase after the snitch wasn't theirs.

"And Rory is after the snitch!" Evans called, as excited as she always got whenever the end of the game was in sight.

"ROSIER!" James heard McGonagall scream, but she too, was keeping her eyes on the seeker as he soared down the field as quickly as his broom can take him.

"And as expected, if he catches it, Slytherin will take the cup – what's happening down there?" Evans called, as the audience watched the two seekers dance around each other near the grounds, going up and down the small open spaces beneath the stands.

For a minute everyone watched, not really making out the movements clearly, and then both seekers soared through the air, back up to the field with the other players, chasing each other right towards the commentator's booth.

"Wow, hey, back up a bit!" Evans called, and both seekers stopped right outside the purple bubble, as the whole school watched the little golden winged ball pass right through it and hover inside comfortably, like it knows it's out of reach.

"What do I do Professor?" Evans asked McGonagall.

"Take the charm off Miss Evans, so the seekers may do their job!"

James watched as Lily Evans waved her wand and the purple bubble dissipated around the booth, but right before Rosier and Fenwick managed to go forward the little ball raced backwards towards the stands, passing close by to the students who cheered.

McGonagall forced her way into the booth, half sitting in Evans' lap and yelled into the mic "Anyone touches that snitch who's not a participating seeker in this game and both teams lose on a technicality!"

"Professor _please_!" Evans begged, looking in pain.

"Oh, sorry Miss Evans –"

The seekers tried to keep up with the snitch but quickly lost it again as opposing supporters tried to misdirect the other team's seeker.

"And it looks like they've lost sight of the snitch." Lily Evans actually sighed tiredly into the mic. "And Parkinson has the Quaffle," she began dully.

James snapped out of his trance – she's right.

"Padfoot snap out of it!" James yelled as he passed by him, and went after Parkinson.

"You failed again!" Lestrange screamed at Rosier, and James used the opportunity to snatch the Quaffle and pass to Finnigan who managed to keep her wits about her throughout the spectacle and scored while Lestrange wasn't paying attention.

The Gryffindor's cheered, though less enthusiastically then when the snitch was spotted.

"Miss Evans!"

"What? Oh, er – 50-180 Gryffindor in the lead."

"You are not permitted to do homework in the commentator's booth Miss Evans!" McGonagall screamed, as the crowd rather laughed at Evans reluctantly putting her parchment away then focusing on the field.

The Slytherins let the disappointment get to them, and their game dropped. James passed through his teammates like a cannon, solemnly swearing to be up to no good every time they try to study for the exams if they dared not keep sharp, which is the only way they managed another score.

James then flew to Lily's booth and didn't stop until he was too close then he's supposed to be, and the crowd grew interested as McGonagall began to scold him.

"Do return to your position Mr. Potter, as there IS a game currently going on!"

"I'm going to make you eat your own words Evans." James taunted right into the mic, inches from her lovely scowling face. "Oh," he smirked, leaning closer, close enough to kiss. "and 10 points to Gryffindor."

And to claps and cheers as the Gryffindors all yelled out, he flew back in an impressive loop to the field where he hurried to catch up to Crabbe.

"Padfoot - Rosier!" he yelled as he passed by.

"On it!" Sirius said, and went off to try and throw Rosier off his broom somehow – or pest him enough he won't be able to search for the snitch long enough.

The Gryffindor team and the red and gold supporters were growing tense, aware that if the Gryffindor chasers manage another score even if the snitch is caught Slytherin won't win, as the score was now 50-190.

The Slytherin beaters were getting desperate and pulling more dirty moves, until they went too far and Madam Hooch's whistle was heard again, as she crossed the field, enraged.

"THE BAT IS FOR HITTING BLUDGERS, NOT OPPOSING PLAYERS!"

"And a penalty shot is granted to Gryffindor team due to Slytherin's unfinished, barbarian, of a beater." Evans called across the stadium to cheers and boos.

McGonagall made a grab at Lily, spluttering.

"None of those were on the list of words you requested I refrained from using Professor!" Evans said bravely. "You forced me to do this!" she danced out of reach.

The whistle was heard and there was quiet, as James gave Hestia the honor to make the shot.

"At least commentate Evans!" McGonagall demanded heatedly.

Evans cleared her throat. "Jones is making the penalty shot – if she makes it it'll be 50-200 for Gryffindor, and… even if the snitch is caught by Rory, I suppose, Gryffindor won't lose the match." She mumbled, flushing.

The Slytherins threw insults at Hestia as she aimed, and then Hooch's whistle blew.

"And Le'Captain Strange blocks –" but it only seemed like he did, as the Quaffle slipped through his fingers and fell swiftly through the middle goal post.

The crowds erupted, cheering as though the game has been won now that Gryffindor is unbeatable even by the capture of the snitch.

"Great score by Jones, the youngest player on the field. And Gryffindor is in the lead with 200 points, while Slytherin has 50… and Potter's an idiot."

Fenwick and Rosier both started at the same time, each trying to gain the upper hand as all four beaters on the field raced forward to help and hinder.

"It looks like the seekers have finally spotted the snitch, after three and a half hours – and Rory is in the lead – "

Professor Slughorn was on his feet, his hands in the air.

"FINNIGAN!" James screamed himself horse, but thank sweet Merlin she heard him.

Finnigan grabbed the Quaffle and passed it to Hestia, who flew by Parkinson quickly, making sure to keep a distance, and threw it back to Finnigan who was ready for it and passed it to where James was waiting, and he turned around and threw the Quaffle through the poll easily before Lestrange even took note.

There was a second of stunned silence before Rosier emerged with the snitch tucked in his hand, and both teams looked confused as to who made it first, when Dumbledore got to his feet and took out his wand and the Quidditch field glowed for a moment before he walked up to Lily Evans and whispered in her ear.

All eyes were to the commentator's booth as Evans said "…Well it's all over. The snitch was caught by Rory but apparently too late –"

The grounds screamed, the red and gold dominating the sight, as Evans' voice was heard above them all "Gryffindor won, 200-210 – and the cup goes to Gryffindor."

James was hustled by his teammates into a big group hug, as they all chanted "We won the cup! We won the cup!" and Dumbledore came onto the field to present them with the trophy.

Twenty minutes later however, the stadium stood empty, as most of the students left, either to sulk or to enjoy the after party in Gryffindor Tower. All except James Potter, the Captain, as he stayed behind and made his way lazily on his broom towards the commentator's booth, where his girlfriend Lily Evans sulked.

When he was within speaking distance he didn't pause, but he did say "Alright there Evans?"

"Still calling me Evans?"

He laughed. "Force of habit. So how come you didn't tell me you were going to be the commentator?"

"You would've been far too excited." She admitted.

James was close enough he rested on the booth, shifting off his broom.

After a short comfortable silence between them that James spent smugly, she huffed. "Alright I admit it I eat my own words! You did matter to the results of the game."

James laughed; amazingly despite the fact that they started dating recently, they still managed to keep their competitiveness alive and a somewhat strange rivalry remained from when they'd constantly fight.

"I was not irrelevant –"

"Fine."

"My position _is_ important –"

"Sure." She bit, her pride wounded.

He smiled at her. "I proved you wrong."

"Happy about it, are you?" she figured.

"Happy to have you finally involved in Quidditch." He agreed. "You know your boyfriend's won it all, right? You're dating the star of the school right now."

Lily gave him a look. He had to laugh.

She reached out and put her hand around his waist and looked up at him. "You were cool out there, but if you make me repeat that in front of every single person we see I'll hex you."

James perked up and leaned down to kiss her warmly.

"You stink Potter, go take a shower." She frowned at him.

"Wanna have me naked so badly Evans?" he said scandalously, and she stuck out her tongue.

"How'd you like my commentating?"

"You incomplete animal." he chuckled fondly, remembering. "That was my favorite one of the lot."

"You should've seen the list of words I wasn't allowed to use James, there were some words there even Sirius wouldn't say out loud. Makes you wonder what kind of loons McGonagall used to allow up here."

James whistled. "Still have that list somewhere?" he asked innocently. "Or a copy? Tell me you made a copy."

"I did. I'm keeping it for Parkinson's detentions; he'll be writing lines."

James burst out laughing and leaned down to kiss her again, this time heatedly, remembering all her comments about him during the game, as his tongue slipped into her and they snogged comfortably, forgetting about the rest of the world.

When James finally left to take a shower Lily promised to wait for him so they can return together to the castle, and James agreed to stop by the Hospital Wing to see how Marlene was doing before they went to his victory party.

Hours after midnight they fell asleep in each other's arms on one of the Gryffindor common room couches, unable to stay awake throughout the party. When they fell asleep, a drunk Sirius Black and Mary McDonald drew matching mustaches on them and Alice Prewett lent Remus Lupin her camera so he could take a picture of them. When Lily and James saw the picture, they found the first opportunity to get rid of it when Hagrid's birthday came and they sent the picture to him, writing: _A happy bearded birthday, we giantly love you Hagrid_ at the back.

Years later, Harry Potter flips through the familiar pages of his scrapbook, and looks at the picture, wondering like he always does what story lays behind it with longing, a small fond smile on his lips, looking at his young parents, both of whom he's long since outgrown.

THE END


End file.
